


Everything is Broken

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: Dean knew this was going to be a horrible case, but he hadn’t known it would turn his world upside down.  Lisa’s dead, and it turns out Ben’s his kid with all the shit-show that being a Winchester entails.  Castiel, just barely recovered from Rowena’s attack dog spell, finds himself comforting Dean in his grief and helping him come to terms with this new reality.  Starts in season 11 between Just My Imagination and O Brother Where Art Thou and borks canon from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> firefly124: Huge thanks to CeNedraRiva for the [amazing artwork](http://cenedrariva.tumblr.com/post/165629808511/art-for-everything-is-broken-by-firefly124-dean) and to ubiquirk for beta reading! Also, this fic would never have happened without a chance remark from my friend Peregrine, so thanks, dude! Title is from the Kenny Wayne Shepherd [song by the same name](https://youtu.be/ZXgtKUpu4Sw).

Dean had said from the get-go that this was a terrible case. He just hadn’t known how bad it was going to get.

Seeing Lisa again in any context was always going to hurt. Even if he’d just bumped into her in the Gas ‘n’ Sip, it would’ve put him into a funk for days. But this, this he wasn’t sure he could even cope with.

“Dean?” Sam asked. It sounded like he’d been trying to get his attention for awhile.

“Hmm?” Dean forced himself to ask. That was a reasonably safe response, right? He picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. That coffee was way colder than he thought it should’ve been.

“I said we can call Garth. Take ourselves off the case.” Sam looked at him over his laptop screen with eyes full of something that turned Dean’s stomach.

“Why would we do that?” Dean asked. He set the mug down on the diner table next to his half-eaten pancakes and bacon. They were probably cold now too. Didn’t matter. He didn’t really think he could finish them.

“Because … dude if I’d even known she’d moved here, I would’ve referred the case out in the first place. Now that she’s …”

“Now that she’s what, Sammy?” Dean felt the fog clearing a bit. “A vic? Again? How does that change anything?”

“We could start with wherever you just went for the last ten minutes.” Sam shot him a glare. “Then, once the shock wears off, you’re gonna be pissed, and that kinda thing leads to mistakes.”

“The only mistake around here is that whatever this thing is made it personal.” Dean could feel his anger rising. Yeah, that was exactly what Sam was talking about, but it didn’t have to mean the kind of trouble he was talking about. It wasn’t like he still had the Mark. “We find this thing, we gank it, and then we get back to finding Amara. Pretty straightforward.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine. Then I suggest we get our asses down to the police station. But Dean, you are not, and I do mean not, going to the morgue.”

Dean just grunted at that. Part of him felt like he should push back on that. Make this just like any other case. But he knew he would’ve done anything to spare Sam his last memory of Jess, so he really couldn’t argue the point.

~*~

“And how did the FBI get here so fast?” the officer behind the desk asked. He kept looking back and forth between Dean and Sam, and Dean hoped he wasn’t remembering them from their Leviathan-twins’ spree a few years back. This kid looked sharp, and that was exactly the kind of trouble they didn’t need.

“We were already on our way,” Sam answered as he smoothly handed over a card. “The first case matched one of our cold cases.”

The young desk officer didn’t look convinced until he called the number and got confirmation from Jody. Dean didn’t know when they’d gotten so lucky. She knew what this official shit should sound like and did a much better job than Garth or maybe even … well, Bobby would be proud of her.

While the kid showed Sam to the morgue, Dean looked through the file. The details were all the same, so the file was useless. Except that there was one more thing he needed to check. Flipping to the section on witnesses and survivors, he quickly found what he was looking for.

He didn’t like what he found.

By the time Sam got back from the morgue, Dean had a plan formed. It was half-assed, but that was better than what they had most of the time, right?

“Thank you, officer,” Sam said. “Please let us know if any new information turns up.”

“Yes, thank you,” Dean said. “In the meantime, we’ll re-interview the witnesses.”

“I don’t know if you saw,” the officer said, “but there’s really just the one witness, and he’s not making any sense.”

“And exactly how much sense do you think you’d make if you’d just seen your mother murdered, officer?” Dean demanded.

“Dean!” Sam shot him a look meant to make him back down.

“That’s my point,” the officer said. “The hospital gives us transcripts of anything he says in his sessions. None of it is coherent enough to warrant subjecting the kid to an actual interview.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. The way the officer stood his ground was probably admirable, but at the moment Dean wanted him to wither and slink away. He grabbed onto that feeling and hung on tight. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to need it to get through this.

~*~

He was right. The hospital staff was just as protective of Ben as the officer had implied, but they had eventually agreed to let them have ten minutes with him. Supervised, of course. Dean was simultaneously annoyed and pleased. Ben was going to need someone to look out for him.

The room was cozy enough, for a pediatric psych visitation room. Nothing like the adult versions they’d seen. There were soft toys and even crayons and paper off to the side, and half of the chairs were kid-sized. Ben didn’t need them anymore though. The biggest surprise was when Ben came in the door.

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Ben wouldn’t remember him after all. Except as soon as he came in the door, his expression went from blank to shock.

Dean was having his own case of shock just looking at him. Kid was tall, probably no more than two or three inches shorter than Dean. He was obviously the same kid Dean had lived with, cooked for, and taught the basics of auto mechanics for a year. Now he was almost grown up, though the look on his face was one Dean remembered from many a night he’d raced into the bedroom to calm him after a nightmare.

“Dean!” Ben ran across the room and threw his arms around him.

“Agent Plant?” the nurse asked, glancing down at her clipboard with their sign-in information.

“He’s used that as a cover identity in the past,” Sam said not quite softly enough not to be heard. He looked as dumbfounded as Dean felt though. “Didn’t know Ben would remember him. Old … witness protection case.”

Dean shut all that out and held Ben close as the boy started to sob. Dean swallowed hard against the tears threatening to fill his own eyes. He needed to take care of this kid, but he also had a job to do here. Getting emotional wouldn’t help anything.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Ben sobbed, burying his face against Dean’s shoulder. “I should’ve been able to stop them! Why didn’t I know what to do?”

Dean’s gut clenched. This was every nightmare he’d had since the last time he’d seen them. Blanking their memories was one thing. There was no way to erase every trace of Lisa and Ben from everyone and everything _else’s_ memory. And everything he’d taught them had gone with their memories of him.

Yeah. This was on him.

“What were they?” Dean asked into his hair, even though he was sure he already knew the answer. It had been right in the transcripts. Plus, there weren’t too many monsters with the power to undo Cas’ mind-wipe. Hell, he hadn’t thought there were any.

“Demons.” Ben pulled back and looked up at him. “Two with black eyes, one with red. They were all demons.”

~*~

“It’s not your fucking fault, Dean,” Sam shouted for probably the tenth time.

“Really?” Dean grabbed the journal out of his bag and slammed the motel room drawer closed. “Because it looks to me like I left them defenseless and now Lisa’s dead, Ben’s traumatized all over again, and you can’t tell me this wasn’t deliberate!”

The demon-killing knife was a reassuring and damning weight at his side. He could’ve given it to Ben, taught him to use it. He could’ve scrounged up an angel blade for him. Something. Anything but leave the kid to watch his mother get killed by a fucking demon in front of him.

“Plus, the case that brought us here in the first place?” Dean went on. “Now that we know it was demons, doesn’t it just look tailor made to get us here? Looked kind of like a werewolf kill, but wrong time of the month. Bodies drained but the teeth marks all wrong for a vamp. Weird symbol we’ve never seen carved into them? How were we not going to get here just too late to stop them getting Lisa too? That was their fucking plan!”

“Yeah, I get it, Dean, I do,” Sam said, holding his hands up like he was trying to calm Dean down. He probably was, even if he ought to know better. “But that doesn’t make it your fault these demons decided to go after them!”

Dean didn’t dignify that with a response. It wasn’t worth it. Rationality could take its turn later. Right now, they needed to figure out which demons were doing this and why. And there was only one place that information might be. He sat at the crappy table by the window and opened their journal. He barely heard Sam say he was going out to grab them some dinner as he scanned through the demon cases starting from that fucking plane not long after he’d grabbed Sam from Stanford.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~

Dean stared at his phone for a long time before finally thumbing the call icon. He was probably just going to go to voicemail anyway, so it was stupid to make a big deal out of it. Hell, there was no reason he’d had to leave the motel room for this call. He was being ridiculous.

“Hello Dean.”

For a moment, Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he was able to take a deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever. And suddenly he was furious again.

“Cas.” Dean took another deep breath. No point taking this out on Cas, right? “So, that case that didn’t make any sense? Turns out it was demons. Who killed Lisa. And oh, by the way, why does Ben even know who I am?”

Silence.

Right. That was why it was maybe a little bit worth taking it out on Cas.

“You wiped their memories, Cas. I tested it.” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face ignoring the dampness that still clung to his stubble. “But the second he saw me, Ben knew who I was.”

“Dean, I … built in a failsafe,” Cas replied.

“And that means what, exactly?” Because of course he did.

“It means that I didn’t _erase_ their memories. I blocked them off. Rather like what Death did with Sam.”

Dean shuddered. That was _not_ a memory Cas should want him thinking about right now.

“The key to unlock them, so to speak, was if they encountered a supernatural threat. Which, clearly, they did.” Silence. “I’m sorry it wasn’t enough to save Lisa.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, his anger deflating. Really, how was he going to make this Cas’ fault? This was on him. Period. “Ben says there were three of them. Sounds like two regular demons and one crossroads with the red eyes. No way they were both getting out of that.”

“You make a good point,” Cas replied thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dean felt like he was getting mental whiplash. There was a point?

“It is surprising that they allowed Ben to survive,” Cas clarified. “Was he able to tell you what happened?”

Dean felt his head starting to ache. He really, really didn’t like where this was going. “They were walking home from the store. Says he tried to get to Lisa at first, when he thought they were just humans. Saw their eyes change and froze. Lisa told him to run, and he did, right into the church at the end of the block.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped them,” Cas pointed out. Which, yeah, Dean knew that. Still didn’t mean he wanted to hear it. “Demons are more limited on holy ground, but few churches are truly warded against them these days.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. He hadn’t wanted to admit it. Sam had let him have his denial for the afternoon, but he’d known Cas would cut right to the quick of it. “They let him go, obviously. They wanted a witness.”

“Do any of the vehicles in the garage work?”

It took Dean a moment to process the change in topic. And even then, all he had was an incredibly intelligent-sounding, “What?”

“I could steal another car, but I would prefer not to deprive someone else of transportation. If any of the cars in the garage are functional and have fuel, I should be able to reach you in a few hours,” Cas explained.

Such a simple thing shouldn’t warm his gut and make his heart start doing weird shit. So Dean ignored it and said, “No, Cas. You’re supposed to be recovering.”

“Then why did you call me?”

 _To hear your voice_ was not an answer Dean was about to give.

“Just wanted to know why Ben remembered me,” he said instead.

“Oh.”

“Not that I don’t want you here, man,” slipped out before Dean could stop it.

“Dean, I’m coming one way or another,” Cas said. “If demons are going to this much trouble to get your attention, this is big, and you and Sam need backup.”

Dude had a point. But he still didn’t sound like himself. Should be resting, getting his grace to heal up some more from Rowena’s spell and the angels’ torture. Not driving some piece of shit car for hours to get here and probably end up having to fight.

Except … if he was going to do it anyway, better that he should be in a car that wouldn’t flag as stolen.

“Fine,” Dean relented. “There’s a Caddy I’ve been working on. It’s not perfect, but it’s drivable and should have enough fuel to get you to a gas station. The light blue one. Keys are in the glove box.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Cas said before hanging up.

Dean looked around the motel parking lot. He sighed and texted Cas the address, glad he’d taught him how to use the navigation app on his phone. The phone he wouldn’t be able to charge in that ancient Caddy, dammit. Dean hoped he’d figure it out.


	2. Chapter 2

The young person behind the counter was, fortunately, not the same one who had failed to sell Castiel pie years ago. Cas hoped that young man had moved on to more pleasant employment. The young woman working today looked about the same age, however.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes. I would like to fill up on pump number three,” Cas replied, handing her his credit card. “Also, I see that you have charging devices for cell phones.”

“Yeah. What kind ya got?” she asked.

Castiel held up his phone and let her look at the charging port. She pulled out a cord and an odd-looking plug. He looked at it in confusion.

“You put it in the lighter socket,” she said, then looked out at the Cadillac. “Unless … does that car even have one?”

“I do not believe so,” he replied. If it did, he wouldn’t know where to find it, and he didn’t want to call Dean with such a trivial question.

“Then you’re gonna need one of these.” She reached behind her and pulled a box from a peg on the wall.

Cas stared at it blankly. 

“It’s a portable power pack, dude,” she said. “Should have one full charge, but then you’ll have to plug into a wall socket somewhere to charge it back up.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raised almost of their own accord. “That sounds incredibly useful. I wish I had known such a thing existed.”

The girl shook her head as she took back the cord and plug. “I’ll hang onto it while you fill up, ring it all out when you get back.”

Castiel nodded and went out to dispense the fuel into the car’s gas tank. He remained apprehensive about what sort of trap Dean and Sam had walked into and whether he would arrive in time to be of assistance. However, he spared a moment to feel proud that he had solved this minor and very human dilemma. Now he would be able, at least, to have directions until he arrived.

~*~

There wasn’t anything obvious in the journal anywhere. If anybody should’ve gone after Lisa and Ben to get him, it should’ve been Abbadon. Dean supposed it could be some of her remaining followers with a grudge, but why now? Two years later here was like two and a half centuries downstairs. Why wait? And why pull this while the Darkness was a looming threat to everyone?

He supposed Amara could’ve been involved. Her creepy attachment to Dean could lead to jealousy if she were human, but she seemed far too certain they were “bound” to be that insecure. Plus she didn’t seem too fond of teaming up with demons after Crowley. It just didn’t track.

The door swung open and Sam came into the motel room carrying a greasy take-out bag. 

“Any luck?” Sam asked.

Dean just grunted in reply and glared at the bag Sam plunked down in front of him. It should smell delicious, he knew. Bacon was kind of a guarantee for that, and he definitely smelled bacon. But he really didn’t think he could choke anything down right now.

“Never thought I’d have to say this, but you need to eat, Dean,” Sam said.

Dean shrugged and turned another page in the journal, wincing when he realized he’d caught up to the changelings case. Sam walked around him to snoop over his shoulder.

“You think it could be related?” Sam asked. “I mean, changelings and demons aren’t really known for teaming up, but I can check the other moms from that case.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t bother. Our first vic was a dude, remember?”

“The first victims in that case were all men, too,” Sam pointed out.

“Still wouldn’t track. Vic didn’t have a kid.”

Sam deflated. “Yeah, it was kind of a long shot.”

Sam finally walked away and started puttering around the room for a bit before opening his laptop and starting to type something.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, “if nothing else, that case is a good reminder it doesn’t have to be about you.”

“What?” Dean asked, not quite catching what Sam had said at first. “How do you figure?”

“Lisa and Ben weren’t targeted for anything to do with you that time, right?”

“That we know of,” Dean said.

“Ben was one of the last kids taken, if not _the_ last,” Sam insisted. “Plus, you hadn’t seen Lisa in years and had only just met Ben. No way it was about you.”

“So, what?” Dean asked. “Doesn’t mean this time wasn’t. There was no reason Ben should’ve survived, Sam. None. Unless you checked out that church and it really is warded that well.”

Sam shook his head. “Not that I could see. Just a typical church. Holy ground, sure, but no visible anti-demon warding anywhere. Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be worked into the carvings, painted into the primer, etched into the stained glass …”

“So we have no idea until Cas gets here is what you’re saying.”

“You called Cas?” Sam asked.

“Of course I called Cas!” Dean glared at him as if that hadn’t been the whole reason he’d gone outside to do it. “What, you weren’t wondering why Ben knew who the fuck I was? Never mind that he knew they were demons?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m damned curious,” Sam replied. “Just wasn’t sure talking to Cas was gonna be on your agenda with all this going on.”

Dean just huffed and tried to refocus on the journal.

“In any case, no, we have no reason to believe it’s warded unless Cas tells us otherwise,” Sam admitted. “You really think they let him go?”

“I think they needed a witness to tell the story, so yeah, I do.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “Still can’t figure out who or why, though. Don’t think there are enough Abbadon followers left to be looking for revenge, and even if there were, why now?”

“Can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but did you call Crowley?” Sam asked. “I mean, he’d be insane to do this himself, and he may not know anything, but he’s in a better position than us to find some answers.”

Dean glared at him.

“What? He’s not going to talk to me! Last time I saw him I tried to kill him!” Sam held up his arms as if in surrender.

“Fine,” Dean huffed before pulling out his phone. He tapped out 666 on the keypad and hit the call icon. 

“Squirrel! To what do I owe the extreme honor of your attempt to wrangle a favor out of me?”

“Oh, like you don’t know.” Dean poured every ounce of frustration he was feeling into his voice. He hadn’t known how he was going to play it until just now, and really, this just felt satisfying.

“Sounds like someone hasn’t been getting enough fiber,” Crowley said. “You might want to snag one of Moose’s salads every so often.”

“Hilarious,” Dean said drily. “Look, it’s obvious you didn’t learn your lesson the last time, but why the fuck did you have your lackeys pull this now? What do you want?!”

There was a brief pause. Dean let it draw out, hoping Crowley would start talking to hear his own voice and let something useful slip.

“While I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, it sounds like I wish I’d thought of it first,” the demon finally replied.

“You did, you prick,” Dean said. “I repeat, why the fuck did you go after them again? Why now, all these years later?”

Another silence. Dean could almost hear the wheels turning in Crowley’s head through the phone. Sam raised his eyebrows in question, and Dean shook his head in response.

“You think I went after your ex-girlfriend and not-kid? What could I possibly hope to gain by that?” Crowley sounded genuinely confused.

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“And what makes you think it was me?”

“Got a witness who saw two people with black eyes and one with red.”

“Red?” Dean could picture Crowley’s expression as he processed that. “That narrows the possibilities down substantially. And they left a witness?”

“Yeah.”

“I … may have an idea of their goal, if not yet their identities,” Crowley said. “Were you to still be under the influence of the Mark, you would certainly have gone straight into ‘kill first ask never’ mode, and we would have missed this scintillating chat. Since they clearly knew of the connection to you, undoubtedly they knew the history as well and assumed, correctly, that you would immediately blame me.”

Dean had to admit that made sense. It actually made more sense than what he’d actually done. He didn’t know why he hadn’t immediately thought of Crowley being behind this for real. Was that something left of his demonic self? Was that maybe why he was more pissed off than … whatever he should be after Lisa had been brutally murdered? He shuddered. 

“I will make some inquiries,” Crowley was saying as Dean shook his head to clear it.

“You do that.” Dean thumb-stabbed the red button to hang up and tossed the phone onto the table.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“He’ll ‘make some inquiries.’ Sounds like he thinks it’s someone bucking for his job.” Dean wasn’t so sure about that, but if it got Crowley motivated, he’d take it.

“Now?” Sam asked, then looked thoughtful. “Maybe some of them are pissed about the Amara thing. I mean, it is the second time in like two years that he brought in someone he thought would bolster his power that turned out to be a wild card.”

“Thanks.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I thought I was being subtle.”

“Not really.” Dean sighed. “But you’ve got a point. It only takes one or two mouthy demons to get something started. Me, I’d just stab ‘em on general principle, but Crowley has to be more careful.”

“Can’t go turning them into martyrs,” Sam agreed, then asked, “Do demons have martyrs?”

Dean shrugged. He reached for the bag, feeling a little less nauseous, which he figured should actually worry him more. As he pulled out the burger, he turned his wrist to glance at his watch.

At least three more hours till Cas could be there.


	3. Chapter 3

The Cadillac consumed fuel at a rate that Castiel was sure exceeded that of the Impala. Not that his Continental had been particularly energy-efficient, but he didn’t recall having to stop to refuel anywhere near as often. Of course, his perception might be an artifact of how infuriated he was at the time wasted in traveling. It did seem that, despite regaining his grace, Castiel did retain some human characteristics. This could be one of them.

Once he had completed the transaction with the cashier and settled behind the steering wheel again, Castiel pulled out his phone and looked at it. Should he call Dean? And say what? He was still on schedule. There was no new information to share. Surely to call simply because he wished to do so was the height of self-indulgence. 

He set the phone on the seat and started to drive.

~*~

It would’ve been a good idea to try to get some sleep. Dean knew this. He also knew there was no way in hell he could close his eyes and not see Lisa in that hospital bed, dying right up until Cas showed up and healed her. Not see her bravely telling Ben to run as the demons attacked her. Not see every horrible thing that he’d ever seen or done to a human body done to her.

Seeing her in the morgue might have actually been an improvement over what his imagination could cook up.

Sam could say what he liked about blame, but this was on Dean. All of it. At least Cas had thought to include a way for them to remember if they needed it, but clearly it hadn’t helped. What had it been like? Was it a flood of overwhelming memories in the middle of already being attacked? Or was it more like just suddenly knowing what they were dealing with? Ben could probably answer that. Didn’t really matter. The point was, it hadn’t helped. If he and Cas hadn’t been on opposite sides by that point, if they’d been able to brainstorm the best possible way to protect them, they could’ve come up with something better.

Still. This was on Dean. He’d had a nerve showing up on Lisa’s doorstep, broken and needy like that. She’d been a damn saint about it, even after it all came crashing down, calling it the best year of her life. Dean couldn’t see how that was true, but obviously he didn’t know what her life was like when he wasn’t there. Pretty shitty, if she was right about that. And since that decision, made during one of the worst moments in Dean’s life, led directly here, even if it really had been the best year of her life, it still wasn’t worth it. Lisa was a hell of a woman, and she deserved better.

Maybe he was doing that stages of grief thing. Maybe he’d be able to mourn her properly once they’d ganked the demons that did this. Or maybe he was still broken and just had no idea how to do this.

A soft knock at the door broke that train of thought, and Dean got up to answer, one hand on his gun until he saw it was Cas. Sam was asleep, so instead of inviting Cas in, Dean stepped outside to join him in the cool night air.

“Dean, I am so sorry this happened.”

“Not your fault, Cas,” he replied, even if it was a little. “If anything, it’s mine. I put a great big target on her and Ben when I lived with them.”

“Dean, that’s not true.”

“Of course it is, Cas. I mean, unless you can see some kind of warding on that church that Sam couldn’t find, those demons let Ben go. Deliberately. To tell me what happened.” Dean took a deep breath. “I never should’ve gone there.”

“Dean, it may not have made any difference if you’d lived there if the demons were made aware of your relationship,” Cas said. “You are known for putting family above all else.”

“What relationship? It was a weekend, before that. You telling me they’re gonna go after all my hookups? Because that’s gonna keep ‘em pretty fucking busy.” Dean winced at the thought and couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas for a moment. That was stupid, though. Not like any of this was a secret from him, right? Dean forced himself to look back up at the angel.

Cas tilted his head to one side and looked at him curiously. “While I admit, it would be difficult for them to have specifically learned of the exact occasion of Ben’s conception, a simple divination spell could reveal anyone related to you.”

It took Dean longer than it should have to process what Cas had just said. And even when he did, it didn’t compute. All he could do was ask, “What?”

“Dean, were you not aware that Ben is your biological son?” Cas straightened his head and did that staring thing of his.

“That’s not … she said … but …” Dean fished for anything to say that might actually make sense.

Except it did make sense. Lisa wasn’t stupid. She’d just learned that monsters like changelings existed when she’d told Dean some other dude was Ben’s father. Of course she wanted to keep some distance, keep Ben safe. That would be why that random barback never seemed to have a name. Never paid her any child support. Never wanted to visit the most awesome kid Dean had ever met, save Sam, not once during the whole year Dean had lived there.

Fuck.

Dean wasn’t sure when he’d sat down on the sidewalk, but the cold of it was starting to seep through his jeans. 

“How long have you known?” Dean asked.

“Since the moment I laid eyes on him,” Cas replied. “His aura contains echoes of your soul. It all but screamed out at me.”

“And you never told me because …”

“Because I thought you knew,” Cas finished for him. “It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t have known.”

Dean let out a mirthless laugh. Of course. And in one of life’s big ironies, neither Ben nor Dean knowing the truth of their relationship had done exactly nothing to protect him and Lisa. Kind of like them not knowing about monsters and demons had done fuck-all to protect them.

Cas knelt next to him and said, “So you see, you cannot blame yourself. Not without regretting Ben’s very existence, and you could never do that.”

Dean wanted to deny that. He really did. But it was one thing to tell his mother that he and Sam were okay with never being born rather than be the vehicles for the apocalypse. It was another thing entirely to wish Ben didn’t exist. No, that Dean couldn’t do, even if he weren’t his biological kid. And since he was? Besides, there was another key piece of information here.

“So these demons might not have even known about when Crowley took them before,” Dean said. “You’re telling me they could’ve literally just done a spell and found them?”

“That is a distinct possibility,” Cas agreed. “This may be a case in which motive, rather than means, will tell us more about whom, exactly, we are dealing with.”

“You totally just binge-watched Law and Order, didn’t you?” Dean asked with a wry half-smile.

“I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I could inadvertently incriminate myself,” Cas replied primly.

“So, yes.” Dean shook his head and let a hint of a smile curl his lips at the thought of his angel glued to the tv. Not _his_ angel, though. He dragged his focus back to the case. “Crowley thinks it’s someone gunning for king.”

“That would be a likely scenario.” Cas squinted at him. “When did you talk to Crowley?”

“Couple hours ago.” Dean shrugged. “Figured he’d have ways to find out more about his demons than we do.”

“What did he require in exchange for this assistance?” Cas’ voice had an edge to it.

“I may have accused him of being the one behind it,” Dean admitted. “Motivated him to find out for his own reasons.”

“A sound strategy,” Cas said, sounding relieved, “and infinitely preferably to one of his deals.”

“I thought so.” Dean’s ass was really getting cold now. “We should go inside.”

“Yes. You should be sleeping.”

Dean snorted. “Not likely.”

Cas just looked at him, then stood and offered him a hand. Dean grasped his wrist and hauled himself up. He opened the door as quietly as he could, closing it the same way once they were both in. Sam was, miraculously, still asleep. He carefully re-established the salt line along the doorway.

“At least lie down and rest,” Cas said softly.

“And what, you’ll keep watch?” It really shouldn’t make him as uncomfortable as it did. Having someone keep watch was a pretty basic precaution. Just … it was different when it was just him and Sam. Something about Castiel watching Dean while he slept was … different.

“If there are demons after you, then someone should,” Cas pointed out.

It was kind of hard to argue that. Salt lines were all well and good, but there were ways around just about anything. It made sense. Didn’t mean Dean had to like it.

“You have told me in the past that you require four hours of sleep to be functional,” Cas said. “I could ensure your sleep is dreamless.”

Dean wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell Cas to hang onto his mojo, since he was still healing. But damn did sleep sound good right about now. He sat on the bed and untied his boots, too tired to bother getting out of his clothes beyond that.

“Yeah, okay. Hit me,” he said at last.

“I do not need to strike you, Dean. You should know that.” Cas just looked at him like he was an idiot.

Dean supposed he was. He gave up and climbed under the scratchy sheets. He looked up as Cas stood over him, two fingers extended towards him.

“Sleep well, Dean,” Cas whispered.

The lightest brush of fingertips on his forehead, and Dean was out.

~*~

It was peaceful, this time before dawn, Castiel thought. Both Dean and Sam were sleeping quietly. Castiel was impressed that Sam was sleeping so well without assistance.

One concern was that when Sam awoke, however, he would be quite startled to see Castiel there. Also, Dean had made it very clear that, for whatever inscrutable human reason, being watched over in sleep was “creepy.” After a few moments of indecision, Castiel carefully picked up the key Dean had set down on the side table and exited the room while leaving the salt line at the doorway undisturbed. 

While the door and window facing the parking lot were not the only potential points of entry, Castiel was certain that he would be able to respond with adequate speed if a demon attempted to enter through the adjoining room or the ventilation. Besides, the brothers had lined those points with salt as well.

A door opened from another room of the motel, and a woman exited. She appeared startled to see Castiel there, and so he smiled and nodded a greeting to her. This did not appear to reassure her as she hastily made her way to what Castiel presumed was her car. Given the state of her attire, Castiel presumed she was leaving an assignation. He did not understand the embarrassment humans showed around sexual matters, especially considering how much sexual imagery they used in so many facets of their lives. Even his brief stint as a human had not provided true insight into this apparent contradiction.

This did raise another concern, however. While there were unlikely to be many people coming or going for at least another couple of hours, it would likely appear suspicious for him to be standing outside this room for such a length of time. Shrugging aside what he knew Dean would have to say about using his “mojo” sparingly, Castiel rendered himself invisible and assumed the formal stance of a guardian protecting their charges, back to the door. The pre-dawn quiet and the familiar stance combined to fill Castiel with a sense of peace and purpose, and he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean woke, it was to the noise of Sam taking a shower. The pipes in this place were apparently older than Baby for all the banging they were doing. Still, the clock showed it had actually been a good five and a half hours since he’d lain down, which was at least part of the reason he felt so rested.

There was no sign of Cas though. That wasn’t right. Okay, yeah, the dude took off all the time, but not when he’d promised to keep watch. Not without a hell of a good reason. 

A quick scan of the room showed all the salt lines intact. His room key, though, wasn’t on the side table where he’d set it down when he and Cas had come back in last night. This morning. Whatever. The shower stopped.

“Sammy,” Dean called out. “You seen Cas?”

“What?” Sam came out into the room, toweling his hair, another towel around his waist.

“Tell me you left me at least one towel,” Dean groused.

“Was Cas here?” Sam asked with a roll of his eyes.

At that moment, the door beeped. Dean whirled around, gun in hand, and heard Sam dive for the one he kept by his bed as well. The door opened. For a second, there was nothing there. Then there was.

“Cas!” Dean lowered his weapon with a sigh of relief as the angel became visible. “I was wondering where you got to.”

“You have made it clear you prefer not to be watched as you sleep. So, I kept watch outside,” Cas said as he closed the door behind him and neatened the salt line with a toe.

“That’s … really thoughtful,” Sam said. He grabbed the towel around his waist, which was probably getting ready to fall off. “Um, maybe let one of us know that’s the plan next time?”

“Agreed.” Cas nodded seriously.

There wasn’t really anything for Dean to add to that. He wasn’t sure he’d have minded Cas keeping watch inside the room, really, despite the fact he’d been thinking otherwise last night, and wasn’t that weird. Sam might’ve though, so it was probably just as well. Yeah, it was a good plan.

“And you went all Invisible Girl, huh?” Dean asked, even though the answer was obvious. “Good call. Should be conserving your mojo, though. You a hundred percent yet?”

“I do not believe it is possible for any angel affected by the Fall to be ‘a hundred percent,’” Cas replied. “Still, I believe I am back as close to full power as is possible at this time.”

“Oh. Good,” Dean said. “Good.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna ... get dressed,” Sam said from behind him, rustling around in his bag before going back in the bathroom.

“You do that,” Dean said.

Silence stretched out for a moment. It was Cas who finally broke it.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Like a baby,” Dean replied. “Thank you.”

Cas just nodded at that. “There were no signs of demonic activity within range of my senses. Those few people who entered or exited the motel during my watch were fully human and did not appear in any way interested in approaching this room.”

“Awesome.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. Yeah, he was going to need a shower as soon as Sam stopped primping in there. “So now we just have to figure out our next step. After we get some breakfast.”

“Yes, obtaining sustenance would be advisable,” Cas said. “I trust you have already located someplace?”

Dean shrugged. “The diner we had dinner at was okay. Hope they do better with breakfast.”

“How many ways can they screw up eggs?” Sam asked as he came back into the room.

Dean looked over his shoulder and saw that he was fully dressed in his fed suit, minus the jacket, even if his hair was still wet. “Well, now you said that, you know they’re gonna get creative, bitch.”

“Yeah, ok. Just go take your shower, jerk.”

With a huff, Dean scrounged up some clean underwear and grabbed his suit hanger.

~*~

The diner was like most others to which the brothers had brought Castiel over the years. The floor was linoleum, worn through at points. The table was shaky, and the booth seats sported several tears. The smell of coffee and bacon permeated everything, and while Dean complained about needing to add “too much crap” to make the coffee drinkable, Castiel found it pleasantly bitter as it was.

“So, what’s our play?” Sam asked between bites of his omelet. 

“Morgue, done, witness, done,” Dean said as he chewed a piece of bacon. “Only thing we didn’t do yesterday was the scene, so I guess we start there.”

“I agree,” Castiel said. “I may be able to discern something that would lead to the specific demons involved.”

“Then I guess that’s where we start,” Sam said. “Actually, we need to check both scenes.”

“You think the first scene’s still gonna be under lockdown?” Dean asked. “It’s been, what, four days?”

“Yeah, but even if there’s nothing there, we need to check it,” Sam pointed out. “The only justification for us being here is that it looks like a serial killer.”

“True that.” Dean sighed. “Fine.”

Castiel wasn’t sure of the source of Dean’s reluctance. It didn’t seem to fit with his overall determination to find the demons responsible for this.

“You realize that this is likely a trap,” Castiel felt compelled to point out.

“Oh yeah,” Dean said. He slugged down the last of his coffee and grimaced. “But these spiders’re gonna be in for a surprise when they realize what they caught in their net.”

“Web,” Sam said.

“Whatever.”

Castiel shook his head and waved down the waitress to request the bill and possibly a bit more coffee.

~*~

Dean was somewhere between relieved and pissed that there wasn’t more to see at the site where Lisa and Ben had been ambushed. If they hadn’t rolled in when they did, there probably wouldn’t be anything left at all, but the locals had kept the scene cordoned off with a uniform guarding it until the “Feds” were done with it. Any traces of sulfur had either been taken into evidence, which they would have to check, or else they’d just blown away. All that was left was a smattering of blood, really, and the chalk outline of where Lisa had fallen to the ground. Dean was starting to wish he hadn’t eaten as his stomach churned.

“Anything?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“The blood appears to be solely from the victim, though I imagine the police will have tested it,” Cas replied.

That … sucked. If she’d managed to draw blood from one of the possessed meatsuits, they could’ve used that to summon the demon.

“There wasn’t much sign of struggle,” Sam said, “so I’m not surprised.”

“You tellin’ me she didn’t even manage to get any licks in?” Dean snapped.

“I didn’t say that,” Sam replied. “Just … no defensive wounds, nothing under the fingernails. I’m sure she was more concerned with Ben getting away.”

“Yeah.” Dean deflated. A hand landed on his shoulder.

“She is at peace now,” Cas said. 

“Yeah? You been upstairs to check?” Dean asked bitterly as he shrugged Cas’ hand away. “Because deaths like this? Not really in the ‘rest in peace’ category.”

The uniformed officer guarding the scene looked over curiously. Shit, Dean had forgotten about her.

“Of course not,” Cas replied. 

“Guys,” Sam said, “we were probably never gonna find much here. Even with the cordon, it’s a public sidewalk, out in the open. Maybe we’ll have more luck at the first scene.”

“Yeah, that one was a house, right?” Dean asked, grateful to Sam for the shift.

“I’d like to get a closer look at the church that Ben … that the witness sought shelter in,” Cas said.

“Sure, we can do that,” Sam said.

“What’re you going to find there?” the uniform asked. “It’s just a church.”

“No stone unturned,” Dean said with a glare. “That’s how you make detective someday.”

The uniform nodded nervously, and Dean shook his head as he turned and strode away from Lisa’s silhouette and to the church that had been Ben’s safety.

~*~

Sam had said it, Cas had said it, now Dean had to admit it: the church was just a church. Plain walls with few decorations. Windows that were technically stained but didn’t have any imagery worked into them, just abstract patterns. Not even any holy water in the baptismal font.

Dean didn’t realize how badly he’d been hoping that Cas would find some charm or ward that was subtle enough he’d missed it from the outside but yet was powerful enough to prevent demons from entering. There was no getting around it: they’d let Ben go. The hackles on the back of Dean’s neck went up at that thought, and he almost took the minister’s head off when he came out to see who was poking around in his church.

“May I help you gentlemen?” the minister asked.

“I hope so, Reverend,” Cas said, pulling out his badge and holding it open. “We are investigating the death of the woman whose son sought shelter here.”

“Ah, such a sad thing.” He gestured for them to take a seat in one of the pews. “That poor boy was terrified. He was convinced their assailants had been demons.”

“I suppose it makes sense that he’d run for a church, then,” Sam said encouragingly.

“It’s true that churches have historically been sanctuaries against evil, though evil doesn’t always respect that,” the minister said. “It was fortunate that they didn’t pursue him.”

“So, if they had been demons, they could’ve followed him in?” Dean asked.

“In the unlikely event that actual demons were chasing someone, I do not believe that a building, in and of itself, could offer much protection, no.” The minister looked at him oddly. “Is that a line of inquiry you are actually pursuing?”

“We try not to ignore anything a witness tells us,” Sam said, shooting Dean a glare, “no matter how   
… unusual. You’d be surprised at the leads we find that way.”

“I probably would.” The minister shook his head. 

“Were you the one who found the boy?” Cas asked.

“Yes, though as I say, I mainly saw a scared young man. I’m afraid I can’t see how I can be of any assistance.”

“Other than the fact he’d just run scared into your church,” Sam asked, “was there anything unusual at all? Unusual sounds, smells, no matter how seemingly insignificant?”

The minister closed his eyes as if to concentrate on the memory, then let out a sigh and opened them again. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t remember anything else at all. The young man ran in as I was setting out the bulletins for the week. Almost knocked me over. Begged me to save his mother from the demons. When I looked outside, she was … well. The attackers had already left. I called 911, but there was nothing they could do.”

“Thank you, Reverend,” Cas said. “We won’t take any more of your time.”

“If you think of anything else,” Dean said, pulling a card from his pocket and handing it over, “call us.”

Once they were back outside, Dean huffed. “So that was a big bunch of nothing.”

“Not entirely,” Cas said. “We did confirm that the church itself is not particularly well warded.”

“No shit,” Dean said with a snort. “Not even any holy water? What kind of church doesn’t have holy water?”

“Lots of them,” Sam said. “Especially smaller ones that don’t do christenings that often.”

“Of course, you’d know that,” Dean muttered. “Nerd.”

“I would like to review the evidence at the police station before we examine the other scene,” Cas went on. “While it is unlikely they managed to collect anything with sufficient demonic residue for a tracking spell, it would be foolish not to check.”

“I kinda want to talk to Ben again,” Dean said. 

“You think he will have remembered anything else?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam,” Dean snapped, “I think he lost his mother and needs to be able to talk to someone who doesn’t think he’s crazy.”

“Okay, yeah, Dean, but as far as they know at that hospital, you’re just an agent investigating the case.”

“An agent that he recognized,” Dean countered. “Look, I’ll leave it up to him. If he wants to see me, I want him to know I’m there for him.”

Cas put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look so sad it made Dean want to run screaming down the street at the same time that he wanted to just let Cas pull him into a hug. He compromised by doing nothing but standing there until Cas just nodded at him.

“I’ll drop you off at the station,” Dean said at last. Maybe he shouldn’t have made Cas leave his car back at the motel. Hadn’t really made sense to split up earlier, but now … yeah, would’ve been handy to have the extra wheels.

“I’ll text you if we leave before you come back,” Sam said. He looked like he still wanted to argue something, but thank whoever was listening that he kept his mouth shut.

~*~

“Am I missing something?” Sam asked after they’d spent a good hour reviewing all the documentation and physical evidence. He closed the folder he’d been reading for the third time.

“If you are, I am missing it as well,” Castiel said, frustrated. He waved a hand at the sealed bags of evidence, none of which contained so much as a speck of sulfur. “If I were not certain that Ben was telling the truth, I would be inclined to ascribe this to random human violence.”

“No, I mean …” Sam paused and collected his thoughts. “I remember how Dean was … back then. After Crowley. But he seems different about it now.”

“That was several years ago,” Castiel pointed out. “It would be surprising, even without all he has experienced in the meantime, if Dean were to react the in the same way now as he did back then.”

“I guess.” Sam sighed.

Castiel regarded him warily. Sam knew his brother well, and he was not incorrect that there was something he did not know. Considering it had been less than a day since Dean had learned the truth of Ben’s paternity, though, he did not feel it was his place to inform Sam. Dean would either do so or not, in his own time.

“Would it have made more sense for you to see Ben, then?” Sam asked. “You think there might be any trace left on him?”

That gave Castiel pause. “Surely the hospital has allowed him to shower and wash his clothing. The only way that there might be anything I could detect is if he had been possessed. Was there anything to indicate that as a possibility to you when you saw him?”

Sam caught his breath, then let it out. “No, Cas. Unless they’ve started planting memories, which would be new. He didn’t mention any missed time, not that we asked, and he seemed to remember everything that had happened.”

Still, Sam pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, presumably instructing Dean to ask about this possibility.

Castiel scowled at the evidence again. He didn’t like that they were finding so little to go on. That left them at the mercy of whatever Crowley could dig up, or else simply waiting to walk into whatever trap the demons had constructed.

“I doubt there is more we can do here,” Castiel said. “Shall we make our way to the home of the first victim?”

“Agents!” The desk sergeant burst into the evidence room. “The hospital just called.”

“And?” Castiel demanded, even as he reached out with his grace to find Dean’s soul. It wasn’t within the radius he knew the hospital to lie within. Opening his senses wider, Castiel still could not sense him anywhere in this state or those immediately surrounding it. A sliver of ice seemed to form in his vessel’s heart.

“None of it makes any sense, but a bunch of their staff are either injured or dead, and your partner and the boy are gone.”

A muscle along Sam’s jaw twitched. “You got anyone heading there right now?”

“Yeah,” the sergeant nodded. “Need a ride?”

“Yes, we will,” Castiel said, firmly tamping down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him at his inability to sense Dean. Surely if all they had wanted to was to kill Dean and Ben, they would have done so at the hospital rather than take them. It was most likely that they were merely warded against angels. A sensible, if frustrating, precaution.

Castiel continued to tell himself this as they rode in silence to the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean came to, he was bound, blindfolded, and gagged. The air smelled moldy and vaguely rotten. Fucking demons. He tested the ropes on his wrists, but they’d been tied while he was out and had no slack. His ankles were no better. The one thing the demons had failed to do was outright hogtie him, and considering he hadn’t heard any of them make a noise yet, either they weren’t there or they weren’t watching. They had grabbed the knife out of his boot, though, so that sucked. He made an experimental attempt at inching along the floor to figure out what the hell kind of space he was in and what he could use to get free.

The floor was cold, might be stone but more likely concrete. So still on earth then. Probably. It was quiet, but not perfectly silent. A scratching sound told Dean he had either mice or rats for company. Awesome. The next few inches didn’t tell him anything new. Cold hard floor. Pretty rough in spots. Almost certainly concrete. Warehouse, maybe? Demons liked warehouses. And storage sheds, so that was another possibility. He hoped there’d be something more to work with than the roughness of the floor, because he was pretty sure he’d scrape his wrists to the bone trying to fray the ropes on the damn concrete.

Another inch and he bumped into something. Carefully, he ran his fingers over what he could reach of it. Fabric of some kind. A bag? He poked at it to see if he could figure out what was inside.

It moaned.

Dean’s breath caught. No other sounds followed, and his mind raced to sort out the possibilities. It didn’t sound like Sam or Cas, and neither of them had been with him at the hospital. Would they have grabbed Ben? Ben was the bait, obviously. His job was done. Why would they grab him?

Why did demons do anything? Either they were told to, they had their own agenda, or they just fucking felt like it. That didn’t exactly narrow things down.

Dean poked at the other person again. Probably in the belly, though he couldn’t be sure. This time he strained to recognize the voice that moaned at him. Definitely higher in pitch than Sam or Cas would be. Didn’t mean it was Ben. Could be one of the nurses from the hospital or something. There still wasn’t any other noise to indicate they were being watched, so Dean tried making some noise himself.

The response was immediate and louder than before. The other person was conscious, then, whether they recognized his voice or not. It took a few more grunts and an experimental scoot to get the other person to realize what Dean wanted. More scooting on both their parts and they were back to back. Dean felt a ridiculous desire to fist-pump at that, ridiculous because if he could actually move his arm freely, this wouldn’t be such a damn victory.

The other person’s hands were smaller than his, but not by a whole lot. Dean grabbed onto their fingers for a moment, willing them to realize he wanted them to be still now, then set to work trying to undo the knots binding them. The smaller fingers might have better luck than his, but Dean was betting on experience over dexterity.

Minutes or hours later, he found the one piece of rope with some give to it and started tugging at it until he could slide his pinky between it and the rest of the knot. Once he managed that, the rest came more quickly, until finally he felt the rope fall completely away from the other person’s wrists. The hands pulled away, and the person wriggled against Dean’s back for a minute as they worked to get themselves the rest of the way free. When they pulled away completely, Dean grunted to remind them he needed to be untied too.

“Dean?” the voice croaked.

Dean just nodded, glad that the blindfold probably hid whatever his face was doing at the sound of that voice. He’d hoped he was wrong, but yeah. They’d grabbed Ben too.

Not for long, though, because the blindfold was pulled away first, then the gag, and Dean got his first look at where they were. Storage locker, then, from the size of it. Light was coming in around the cracks of a large rectangle that took up most of a wall, so it was probably still daylight out. It took him a second to be able to speak, partly because his mouth felt coated with dust and partly because what the hell was he even supposed to say?

By the time he managed it, Ben was working on the ropes on Dean’s wrists. Since he could at least kind of see what he was doing, he made shorter work of it than Dean had, and so the obvious thing to say at that point was just, “Thanks.”

Once he was completely free, Ben sat facing him and just stared at him. That also left him only one thing to say.

“Ben, I am so sorry you got dragged back into this. You and your mom.”

Ben dropped his head and shook it, and Dean was painfully reminded of himself at that age. Ben looked back up at him and said, “Don’t. Just … let’s just get out of here.”

Dean nodded and pushed up to his feet. Their captors had been gone a ridiculously long time as it was. They couldn’t stay that lucky for much longer.

~*~

No one at the hospital had been able to tell them anything useful. Sam was still interviewing staff from the pediatric psych unit, but Castiel was certain that would not yield them anything new. It was unfortunate that there had been no surveillance inside the building. What they had from outside showed only that Dean and Ben had been carried out, most likely unconscious (because why bother if they’d been killed, but they did look like rag dolls slung over the attackers’ shoulders) and thrown into a van that did not have any license plates on it. Indistinct color, probably brown or black. Nothing to go on, really.

Castiel excused himself from the local police officers and made his way to the Impala. Leaning against it was reassuring. It was irrational, but Castiel had learned that most emotional responses were. He pulled out his cell phone and glared at it before letting out a sigh as he called Crowley.

“Feathers! Fancy hearing from you.”

“Crowley.” Castiel grimaced. “Tell me you have news.”

“Right down to business then. Well, I’ve managed to put down a handful of rebellions, which is the good news. The bad news, however, is that I’ve yet to get any of them to confess to targeting your boyfriend’s ex.”

“That’s because you have the wrong demons,” Castiel snapped. “They’ve taken both Dean and Ben.”

“What?” Crowley materialized next to Castiel. “Not that I’m surprised they went after Dean. That was obviously their goal with this little escapade. But now they have him, what do they want with the kid?”

“I have the beginnings of an idea,” Castiel admitted as he ended the call on his phone and shoved the device into a pocket. “But I don’t like it.”

“I can’t imagine you would. Care to share with the class?”

Castiel thought about it for a moment before deciding that he had nothing to lose by doing so. “I believe it has something to do with the Darkness.”

“Do tell.” Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“At the beginning of creation, it was only Lucifer who was able to contain the Darkness,” Castiel said. “While I am not certain what their true end-game is, I can only think that when demons kidnap the two living vessels for an archangel, it must be somehow related.”

“Two?” Crowley asked. “I thought you said they took Dean and _Ben_ , not Dean and _Sam_.”

“I did.” Castiel sighed. “As I say, their motivation remains unclear. They did not simply kill Dean and Ben, which suggests their goal is not to deprive Michael of a possible vessel. It is possible that they are intended to continue as bait for Sam.”

“You think they want to open the cage and sic Lucifer on the Darkness?” Crowley asked. 

“Or to ‘sic’ Michael on her,” Castiel said. “The fact that they did not leave any demons behind, knowing full well Sam would be in pursuit suggests to me that he is not their true target.”

“But with that possibility lying about, you’ve left Moose on his own in there?” Crowley asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, Cas,” Sam said. “What the hell?”

Castiel was furious with himself for letting Crowley so thoroughly distract him that he hadn’t sensed Sam’s approach. That shouldn’t have been possible.

“And what’s this about Ben being a vessel? How could he be?” Sam demanded.

Castiel turned to face him. “Sam, the only demon on these premises is standing right here. Even if one were to have arrived in the meantime, you have proven yourself more than capable of dealing with them.”

“It would help if I knew I was a possible target,” Sam protested. “How long have you been thinking along these lines?”

“Only since I began wrestling with the question of what they had to gain by abducting Ben,” Castiel replied. “As to how he could be a potential vessel for Michael … I had intended to defer to Dean on when or how to tell you. However, I’m certain you have already arrived at the correct conclusion.”

Sam sat back against the trunk of the Impala. “He’s Dean’s biological son.”

“Are we all caught up now?” Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Even if this speculation is correct, it gets us no closer to determining where they’ve been taken or which demons we’re dealing with!”

“I disagree,” Castiel said.

“Me too,” Sam said. “I mean, there are probably still some Lucifer loyalists kicking around down there. I’d call them prime suspects.”

“Who do you think I’ve spent the last day interrogating?” Crowley asked. “Oh sure, one or two think they can take over on their own. But most of the traitorous bastards want to bring back Daddy, as if he wouldn’t start by snuffing us all out.”

“The release of the Darkness may have caused demons who were not previously loyal to Lucifer to consider whether he could save them from her,” Castiel added. “They might be willing to risk the wrath of their creator over the wanton destruction of the Darkness.”

Crowley shrugged as if to concede the point.

“Ben said two had black eyes and one had red,” Sam said. “So it sounds like one of them was a crossroads demon.”

“Yes, yes it does,” Crowley replied. “And while that does narrow the field somewhat, I’ll have you know that there are a very lot of crossroads demons to go around interrogating them all. Not to mention it’s bad for business keeping them out of the field.”

“Business?” Sam demanded. “You think that’s the priority right now?”

“Business is always the priority!” Crowley retorted.

“Not now it isn’t,” Castiel cut in before Crowley could start pontificating. “Right now, the priority is getting Dean and Ben back while not letting them get their hands on you, Sam. Regardless of their motives, whether they would plan to offer you to Lucifer or to kill you so that Lucifer would have no true vessel, it seems highly likely that you would factor into their plans in some way.”

Sam huffed but didn’t argue. Instead he asked, “I know Ben said black and red eyes, but … are there any demons left like Azazel or Lilith? Or were they unique and that’s why their eyes were different?”

“You know, Moose,” Crowley said, “sometimes you’re not a _complete_ moron. Lilith, of course, was unique, being the first demon. Alastair, however, was not far behind and would have been considered in the same phylum, so to speak.”

“Demons have phyla?” Sam asked.

Castiel shrugged. Angels had choirs. There was no reason demons shouldn’t have a similar system of classification.

“So to speak,” Crowley repeated. “Now Azazel, on the other hand, he was a Prince of Hell. And you’re right, he wasn’t the only one, though the others were deeply uninterested in following in his footsteps.”

“Hell has princes?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said. He was surprised Sam had not run across this at any point in his research, either whilst pursuing Azazel or since gaining access to the resources of the Bunker. “Though as Crowley says, not much has been seen or heard of them since the Apocalypse. Most have believed them deceased, in fact. Otherwise, Crowley wouldn’t have ascended to the throne after Lilith’s demise.”

Crowley glared at that before continuing. “The _question_ , then, is whether it is likely that one of them has had their interest piqued by this turn of events. They certainly would have no compunction about enlisting the aid of other demons in their machinations if so. Though what, precisely, their goal might be would remain somewhat … opaque.”

“Um, how about just not dying?” Sam asked.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course. But ‘not dying’ whilst serving Lucifer? Or ‘not dying’ whilst reigning over all of us in our eternal torment? That’s the question. Do they wish to contain Michael’s vessels so that none could return Lucifer to the cage? Or to ensure that he remains there? Or perhaps they think, since Lucifer managed it last time, and one of Michael’s vessels has already held the Mark, that Michael would be their likely champion this time?”

“Who cares?” Sam demanded. “If we can get Dean and stop them, what does it matter what they were up to?”

“And now we’re back to moron,” Crowley said with a sigh. “Knowing what they want will help us predict their next moves.”

“And since we don’t know that, we need to just focus on finding them.”

“And what if they’re the bait now?” Crowley retorted. “What if the real goal is to get to you and convince you to say yes?”

Sam didn’t say anything to that, but a muscle twitched along his jaw. That told Castiel all he needed to know about Sam’s thoughts on that matter.

“Sam,” Castiel said, “that is not a viable option.”

“Why not?” Sam asked. “I’ve stopped him before. Stopping the Darkness first? Considering it’s my fault she’s loose? Kinda seems like it might be the best plan we’ve had yet.”

“It’s no more your fault than it is mine,” Castiel said. “Or Crowley’s. Or Rowena’s. Or Cain’s.”

“Well, considering the rest of us didn’t know about that side of the Mark,” Crowley put in, “I do think Cain might just carry a bit more of the blame here.”

“My point—”Castiel shot the demon a glare“—is that who is at fault does not necessarily determine our next move.”

“Then what does?” Sam asked with a resigned sigh.

“I wish I knew,” Castiel replied.

~*~

The problem with being locked in a storage shed was that, unless they left people’s stored crap in it, there really wasn’t much to work with to get yourself out. Dean had tried everything so far, up to and including just body-slamming the stupid door with Ben’s help, but all that had gotten them was more bruises. That left them sitting on the floor in the dim light, staring at each other.

“Why’d you do it?” Ben asked after a period of silence.

“Gonna need a little more than that to be able to answer,” Dean replied.

“Why’d you erase our memories?” Ben asked. “And how?”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you remember?”

“I remember the demons taking me and Mom,” Ben said. “I remember Mom in the hospital, dying. Then I was going to school in a new town like none of that happened.”

“You remember when I told you about angels?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, who could forget? You called them ‘dicks with wings.’” Ben let out what might pass for a laugh. “Got my ass handed to me in Sunday school for repeating that.”

“Shit.” Dean shook his head. Lisa hadn’t told him about that. “Well, anyway, they don’t all suck. At least, not always.”

“Oooookay.”

“There’s one. Castiel.” How the fuck was he supposed to explain this? He really needed to get this part right. “He was actually being kind of a dick at the time. It was … not entirely his fault what had happened, but it definitely was part-way his fault.”

Ben just stared at him. Right, this was making no sense. So much for getting it right.

“Long story short, he tried to make amends by healing your mom,” Dean said. “And I asked him to make you both forget me while he was at it. To keep you safe.”

“That … doesn’t make any sense,” Ben said. “How would us not remembering you keep us safe?”

“I thought … if you didn’t know who I was, didn’t know about demons and monsters and shit, they’d have no reason to come after the two of you again.”

“So that worked out well,” Ben said bitterly.

Dean sighed. “Wasn’t my finest hour, and definitely not a great solution.”

A few moments of silence passed.

“Why’d it stop working?”

“Not that either of us was making great choices,” Dean said, “but Cas was doing a little better. He realized you could still run into trouble, even if it maybe had nothing to do with me, and then you wouldn’t even know what to do. So, he says he built in a trigger to unlock your memories if you needed it.”

Dean was expecting another retort about how great that had worked, but it never came. Instead, Ben seemed to be thinking it over.

“I think maybe that wasn’t all he left,” Ben finally said. “We both got … superstitious, or at least that’s what Mom called it.”

That was … surprising.

“Superstitious how?”

“Always kept holy water in the house,” Ben said. “Mom got that ‘namaste’ thing tattooed on her wrist. Said it was for protection. I came up with my own, or I thought I did … but I think it’s the same one you have.”

“Seriously?” Dean was caught halfway between impressed and pleased, not to mention weirded out.

“I thought I was being cool,” Ben said. “Was shocked when she signed off on it, considering I was only fifteen. But she said one of her students told her a pentagram is really for protection anyway, so it was fine, long as I didn’t turn it into the Godsmack logo.”

Dean snorted out a laugh. Yeah, he supposed it wasn’t that far off.

“Other stuff like that. Never went outside at night on a full moon,” Ben continued. “Always wore something with silver on it.”

Dean shook his head. “So some stuff stayed. Kinda.”

“Yeah.” Ben took a shaky breath. “Sucks it wasn’t enough.”

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed against the tears that suddenly wanted to take over. “Your mom deserved better. You both did.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“You _both_ did,” Dean repeated. “Don’t go down that road of thinking any of this is your fault, Ben. Trust me, that leads nowhere good.”

Silence.

“If we get out of here …” Ben started.

“ _When_ we get out of here,” Dean interrupted.

“… what happens then?” Ben asked. “I mean, my aunt will step up, but she’s got two little kids of her own. And what if something like this happens again?”

Dean had been avoiding thinking about that. After all, first they had to survive whatever the fuck was going on.

“I don’t know, Ben,” he admitted. “What do you want to happen?”

“I want everything to go back to how it was,” Ben said, “but that’s not gonna happen.”

Dean wished it could. If Cas were full power, if he weren’t persona non grata with heaven, maybe it could. But now? Yeah, not gonna happen. Getting Lisa back for Ben was a bigger miracle than they’d be able to pull off.

“Seems like, if I don’t want to get anyone else killed, I should stick with someone who knows what they’re dealing with,” Ben finished.

Dean’s breath caught. Ben couldn’t be saying what he thought he was. Kid should want nothing to do with him.

“I know you don’t want me, and I’m not really your kid …”

“Yes, you are,” Dean ground out. 

“…what?”

It took a minute to unclench his jaw and figure out what the actual fuck to say here. But the kid needed to know.

“I didn’t know it until yesterday,” Dean said. “I should’ve … but I believed your mom when she said it was some other guy. This isn’t me blaming her. She was right to try and keep you safer like that.” God, the last thing this kid needed was to get mad at Lisa right now. There were just too many ways Dean could make this even worse. “But apparently … according to Cas … I’m your dad.”

“Oh.”

Dean clenched his jaw back up so he wouldn’t say anything stupid. Like Ben didn’t have enough on his plate right now, he had just gone and dumped this shit on him. But he had to, right? He couldn’t let Ben think he wasn’t wanted. Couldn’t let him go on thinking the man who’d fathered him was some nameless, faceless douchebag that hadn’t done fuck-all to support him. No, instead, the douchebag had a name and a face. 

“I still hate you,” Ben said.

“I wouldn’t expect any different,” Dean replied. He wondered if this stabbing pain in his chest was the same thing Dad had felt when Sam used to say that. Probably. 

“And maybe what I just said … maybe that’s a bad idea.” Ben looked at the floor. “Maybe I should just get emancipated. I’m almost eighteen anyway.”

That was a pretty broad definition of almost, but Dean decided not to challenge it. “You gotta do what you think is right, Ben. But right now, our priority is getting the hell out of here, alive and preferably in one piece.”

Ben looked up at him and nodded. Then his shoulders slumped and he asked, “How?”

“Only one thing you can do in a situation like this when you’ve already tried to get out on your own.”

“What’s that?”

“Wait till someone opens the door,” Dean said, “and be ready when they do.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was futile, Castiel knew, but he continued reaching out in search of Dean’s soul. His only comfort was that rather than simply finding nothing, his grace felt like it was being reflected back at him. He could only think that meant Dean was warded.

“Not that I’m surprised,” Sam said, “but I’m coming up empty on tracing Dean’s phone.”

“Behold my look of utter shock,” Crowley said. “What are you doing bothering with technology, anyway? Did you learn nothing at all from your various associations with my dear old mum and the lovely Ruby?”

Castiel scowled at the demon and said, “If I cannot sense Dean’s soul, then no mere spell will be able to locate him either.”

“Wait,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in either confusion or anger. Possibly both. “You can just _sense_ souls? What about that whole … angelic cavity search thing a few years ago? Was that just for show?”

“No! Of course not.” Castiel sighed. It seemed he was doomed to relive every horrible mistake he’d made that year. “It’s only Dean’s soul that I can sense without directly touching it.”

“That part of the whole ‘more profound bond’ thing?” Sam asked. He still looked suspicious, but at least he no longer appeared personally offended.

“Essentially, yes,” Castiel replied. “His soul became imprinted with my grace, which is why I do not believe that a mere spell could detect what I cannot.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Crowley said. “I’m disappointed in you, feathers. I thought you’d have figured this out yourself. I mean, it’s true that, if one of the Princes has well and truly warded them, we may not get better than the general vicinity, but surely that would be an improvement over standing here with our thumbs up our arses.”

“What spell is it that you think will work?” Castiel asked, resigned.

He was not at all surprised when Crowley vanished.

Sam let out a frustrated noise and asked, “Are we really going to trust him?”

“If he believes that finding Dean is in his best interests, which he appears to,” Castiel replied, “then his interests align with ours for the moment. That is not the same as trusting him.”

“And how often have we used that exact rationalization, Cas?” Sam demanded. 

“Far too many,” Castiel agreed. “However, one thing I will say for the demon: he is predictable in his self-interest.”

“I’m flattered,” Crowley said as he reappeared, a bronze bowl with various herbs in his hands. He lifted the bowl as if to show it off. “Good thing the only rare ingredients are ones we already have right here.”

It was true that the ingredients in the bowl were common enough: dried strawberry leaves, caraway, juniper, and rosemary. All generally useful for location spells, though not particularly powerful on their own.

Sam already had a knife out and was in the process of rolling up his sleeve.

“That said,” Crowley went on, “do you really want to do this in the middle of a hospital parking lot?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied before Sam could say anything. “There is no point in wasting further time.”

“Awww, anxious to find loverboy, are we?” Crowley asked with a smarmy grin. “Let’s get on with it, then. Sam’s already on the right page.”

“And what ‘page’ is it that you would like me to be on?” Castiel retorted, anger flaring. Not that it was anything new for Crowley to rub Castiel’s pathetic emotions in his face, but this was hardly the time.

“Well, if we’re going to have a chance of making it past demonic warding, we’re going to need more than just human blood here,” Crowley said. 

“You’re not taking Cas’ grace,” Sam snapped. “If that’s what you’re getting at, we’ll find another way.”

Castiel felt his face warm at that declaration. He would tear out his grace in a heartbeat if that were what was required to save Dean, but it was nice to hear that Sam felt that this would not be acceptable to him.

“His grace?” Crowley asked, a look of feigned innocence on his features. “Oh, heavens no. Just a bit of angelic blood should do the trick. I mean, demonic blood would work, too, but I’m afraid my … history with Dean would not be sufficient to fuel the spell.”

“Sam,” Castiel said quickly, before Crowley could drag this out any further, “do you really think I would do any less than you for him?”

“No, of course not.” Sam set his jaw and nodded. Without any further hesitation, he drew the knife across his forearm and held it over the bowl, allowing several drops to fall in with the herbs.

“That’s enough, Moose,” Crowley said.

Castiel rested his hand on Sam’s arm briefly, healing the wound and ensuring no pathogens had entered it.

“Your turn, Feathers.”

Castiel put out his hand for Sam’s knife, unwilling to manifest his angel blade this close to Crowley, though the demon likely had his own. Still, it would be a foolhardy risk when it was not even needed. With a quick motion, Castiel drew the knife over the center of his palm and squeezed his fist over the bowl, allowing a small stream of grace-infused blood to join in with the rest of the spell’s components. When Crowley waved him off, Castiel pulled his hand back and quickly healed it.

“ _Reperio frater. Reperio quod amans. Reperio puer._ ” Crowley muttered. He snapped his fingers and a flame engulfed the contents of the bowl, quickly reducing them to ash.

Castiel glared at him. His insinuations were irritating enough, but if he had just botched this spell by continuing them into his incantation, Castiel was going to finally smite him, once and for all.

“So, besides being flashy and smelly, did that just do anything?” Sam asked with a cough.

Crowley shot a meaningful look at Sam’s pocket, and Sam reached into it, brow furrowed.

“In a quarter mile, turn right onto Main Street,” a tinny, quasi-female voice said.

“You didn’t think we might need a map for this?” Crowley asked.

Castiel just shook his head as Sam opened the Impala’s door and slid behind the wheel. He went around to the other side of the car and slid in beside him, glaring at Crowley as he slunk towards the back seat muttering about how ungrateful they were. He’d be grateful when they actually found Dean.

~*~

By the time the door to the storage unit finally opened, almost all the light had gone. So, an outdoors unit, apparently, and it was getting to be night time. Awesome.

Still, a bit of light outlined the three shapes at the door, and Dean launched himself at the closest one. He wasn’t even a little surprised to get flung back against the wall and pinned there, but he’d hoped he could at least buy Ben enough surprise to run past them. Considering Ben was pinned to the same wall, just a bit closer to the door, that had obviously been too much to hope for.

“Let him go,” Dean snarled. “You got me, right?”

“Yes, we do,” said the closest demon, a cocky smirk coloring its voice. “But the kid was never just bait.”

Dean’s heart sank and took his stomach with it. What the fuck did they want with Ben?

“Oh, Dean,” the demon said as it strode closer, features still too shrouded by shadow to make out. The voice was deep enough that the meat suit was probably a dude, not like it mattered. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“So why don’t you enlighten me?” Dean asked. 

“It’s going to take the both of you _and_ your brother to fix what you broke,” the demon said. 

“And what’d we break this time?” Dean asked. “Gets kinda hard to keep track.”

The demon just tsked at him.

_Cas, I have no idea if you can even hear prayers these days, but if you can, you gotta know this is a trap. They’ve got us in some kind of storage place, and they just as much as admitted they’re gunning for Sam, too. Sounds like they maybe want to do something about the Darkness, but what would they even need Ben for to do that? Me and Sam, sure, but Ben? Just … I know you’re not going to stay away, and fuck knows Sammy wouldn’t either. But be careful, man, please._ Dean stopped himself just short of adding, _I can’t lose you, too._

“You’d think with all the time you spent cozying up to Crowley that you’d have picked up a thing or two,” the demon said. “Asmodeus was certain you would have.”

“Who’s Crowley?” Ben asked.

“Who’s Asmodeus?” Dean snapped.

“Oh, he’s the king of hell,” the demon answered Ben. “Didn’t Daddy tell you? They used to be BFFs.”

“Hey, now, I think that might be overstating it a bit,” Dean said. Should’ve known they wouldn’t give anything new away, at least not to him. Still, a name was better than nothing. “And if there was anything to pick up, believe me, I did. Nothing that rings a bell for the crap you’re pulling now, though.”

“You were friends with the king of hell?” Ben asked.

“Not really,” Dean replied.

“More than friends was the rumor,” the demon said over him.

“Was there a point to all this?” Dean demanded. Ben seriously did not need to hear this shit. “Or do you just like hearing yourself talk?”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to stand here and tell you everything?” the demon retorted. “That’d just give you a chance to fuck it all up like you always do.”

“Well, I do try.” Dean smirked. “But, considering you’re not moving us anywhere or doing, well, anything, it kinda seems like the only reason you came in here is to gloat.”

“Who says we’re not doing anything?” the demon replied.

That might actually rank as one of the creepiest things Dean had ever heard. He didn’t feel like anything was being done to him, other than the sheer force pinning him to the wall. Wouldn’t he be able to tell if they were doing something to his soul?

That’s when he felt it.

It wasn’t much. Any other time, he’d’ve thought it was just an itch. Not even a particularly bad one. What got his attention, though, is where it was. Above and to the left of his heart, right under the anti-possession symbol tattooed on his chest.

That got him fighting. Because if they were doing it to him, they were doing it to Ben. As determined as Dean was that he wasn’t about to be possessed by some asshole demon, he would be damned all over again before he’d let that happen to Ben. He’d never yet managed to break free when the demons pulled this wall-hugging shit, but there was a first time for everything, right? The pressure increased around his throat in response to his struggles, cutting off his air.

_Cas, please … if you’re gonna get here, now would be good._

His vision darkened around the edges, fuzzy blackness creeping inwards. He wasn’t going to be conscious much longer.

_I’m sorry … Ben … I’m sorry._

The pressure holding him against the wall vanished, and Dean fell to the floor. He heard Ben fall, too, as if from the other end of a tunnel. Dean gasped deep lungfuls of cool, fresh air, shaking his head and willing his vision to clear. When he finally was able to focus, he was sure he’d see Cas and Sam standing there. He should’ve known he couldn’t get that lucky.

Amara.

The demons were gone. Vaporized, probably, from the stench of burnt sulfur. And she stood there, surveying the space like it was some obscure corner of her kingdom that she’d never seen before. She probably thought it was.

Dean ran over to Ben and crouched over him. There was nothing he could do about Amara, but he could at least check on his kid. Ben’s breathing was evening out and he seemed to be getting his bearings.

“You okay?” he rasped.

Ben just nodded, still rubbing at his throat, which must hurt like a son of a bitch.

“This is … your creation,” Amara said.

Dean turned to face her, slowly standing up. He wasn’t sure how much good it did to put himself between her and Ben, but it sure made him feel better.

“Your child,” she said in that deliberate way that she had, like she was working something out. “My brother gave you the means to continue his creation.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, wondering where she was going with this. Was she only just figuring out that people had kids? Granted, she’d been a baby herself not that long ago, but still. “We do that.”

“I told you, we will always help each other,” Amara said. “I have no quarrel with you, Dean. Nor with your creation.”

“Thanks for that,” he said. Every muscle in his body coiled tight like a spring, not that he had any idea what to do with that. He couldn’t jump her, shoot her, stab her. Even if he did, it probably wouldn’t accomplish anything. He knew he should at least try, but just like the last time he … kind of didn’t really want to.

She took a step closer and raised a hand to Dean’s cheek. He couldn’t move. Was she going to kiss him? The idea both intrigued and repulsed him.

“Who is that, Dean?” Ben asked.

Dean flicked his eyes back over his shoulder to see that Ben’s eyes were wide and terrified and confused. When he looked back to where Amara had been standing, she was gone. He could hear the sound of feet running towards them, though, so he reached for Ben and pulled him to his feet, muttering, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

When they cleared the door, Dean could see that it was Cas and Sam running towards them, with Crowley sauntering along behind.

“Dean!” Cas called out. “Where are they?”

Dean spread his hands and planted his feet, biting back the urge to run over and hug him, let that grace of his sear away the remnants of Amara’s touch.

“Gone,” he said.

“Gone how?” Sam asked.

“Let me guess,” Crowley put in. “Amara.”

Dean leveled a stare at him. “How’d you know?”

“Because you have that same gobsmacked look on your face as the last time,” Crowley said. “What _does_ she see in you?”

“Who’s Asmodeus?” Dean countered. No reason he should be the only one off his game.

“Asmodeus?” Crowley echoed. “That’s … interesting.”

“Guys, can we get out of here first and figure this out after?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder nervously. 

“Sounds good to me,” Ben said.

“Where’d you park?” Dean asked. 

Sam led the way back to where they’d left the Impala at the end of the row of storage units. Dean wasn’t looking forward to the bitching he was going to hear about three grown (well, two grown and one overgrown) men fitting in the back seat, but no way in hell he was letting Ben sit anywhere other than shotgun, and Sammy was just going to have to understand. By the time they reached the car, though, Dean realized that Crowley had vanished.

Neither Sam nor Cas argued when Dean waved Ben into the front seat. Sam was actually preoccupied with calling off the search for them and getting whoever was on the other end of that phone conversation to stop asking awkward questions, so he just handed over the keys without comment. Cas … Cas just hadn’t taken his eyes off of Dean the whole time.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean said as he shut the door behind Ben and walked around to the driver’s seat. 

“I am,” Cas replied.

“Oh.” 

Yeah, maybe that was some creepy angel thing they did. Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to ask exactly what that meant. For now, he wanted a shower, a burger, and a drink, so he just slid behind the wheel and started the car, the rumble of the engine calming him in a way nothing else really could. Once they were all in, he started driving. He got all the way to the entrance of the storage facility when he realized he wasn’t sure which way to turn.

“Hey, anybody wanna tell me where the motel is from here?”


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel hadn’t bothered with booking a room for himself when he’d arrived. He didn’t need to sleep, after all, and all of the equipment he needed would have to remain in the Cadillac, anyway. Now, however, he could see that it would have been prudent. There was barely room for three of them in Dean’s motel room, much less four. Ben was clearly going to be at least as tall as Dean, and in the way of adolescent males, seemed to be all angles and not yet comfortable in his own skin.

Dean, of course, deferred to his son, allowing him to shower first and scrambling through his own belongings for a change of clothing. Castiel decided to take advantage of his distraction and gave Sam a nod to indicate he would return shortly before heading down to the innkeeper’s office.

Through some stroke of fortune, the room next to the Winchesters’ had been vacated that morning, and so Castiel was able to obtain it with only a slight delay as he stepped back outside to look at the license plate on the Cadillac. He didn’t understand why this was something necessary in order to secure a room, but it was an easy enough request to fulfill and he had better things to worry about.

When he got back to the Winchesters’ room, he showed Sam the keys he had obtained and watched Sam’s eyes light up with understanding. Ben was now fussing with the somewhat oversized clothes Dean had given him, and the sound of the shower indicated where Dean had gotten to. Sam made no move to grab his duffel bag, however, and so Castiel tucked the keys back into the pocket of his trench coat for now.

When Dean came out of the bathroom at last, he stopped before the mirror outside the bathroom and pulled down the collar of his t-shirt. Castiel shifted so that he could see what Dean was looking at and was unhappily surprised by what he saw.

“They planned to possess you,” Castiel said. That was the only possible reason for removing the protective symbol Dean had worn for as long as Castiel had known him. He itched to restore it but forced himself to stillness.

“Me and Ben,” Dean corrected.

Ben pulled up a sleeve of the t-shirt he was wearing to show a bare shoulder. From the look on his face, it hadn’t been bare before today.

“And Sam,” Dean added. “Well, they didn’t say that, but they did say it was gonna take all three of us.”

“They were that specific?” Castiel asked. “And they said Asmodeus was involved?”

“They dropped the name,” Dean said. “Who the hell is Asmodeus? Sounds like that stupid movie about the piano guy with the crazy hair.”

“That’s Amadeus,” Sam said.

“Whatever.”

“Asmodeus is one of the princes of hell,” Castiel said. “Like Azazel.”

“Yellow eyes?” Dean and Sam asked together.

“Who’s Azazel?” Ben asked.

“After Lucifer fell,” Castiel said, “he experimented with creating demons. His first was Lilith, a human and Adam’s first wife. As happy as he was with his work, he tried to copy God’s approach, making his second demon, Alastair, from part of her essence.”

“That explains a lot,” Dean muttered.

“He also stole the grace of other angels who’d followed him,” Castiel went on. “He twisted it, taking much of its power and giving them back merely a fraction of it. Those became his generals, the so-called princes of hell: Azazel, Ramiel, Dagon, and Asmodeus.”

“So if they were the princes, why didn’t they take over after Sam ganked Lilith?” Dean asked.

“It was believed that they had also been killed during the lead-up to the apocalypse,” Castiel said. “No one had heard anything about them, and suddenly Crowley was declaring himself king of hell.”

“I’m guessing the rumors of their death turned out to be premature,” Dean replied.

“If Asmodeus was behind the actions of the demons who captured you and Ben, then yes,” Castiel said. He still wasn’t sure quite what that implied. “Given that they wanted all three of you, it sounds as though the plan was for the remaining princes to possess all of you in an attempt to take on the Darkness.”

“What’s the Darkness?” Ben asked.

“It was Lucifer who succeeded in banishing her back at the dawn of time,” Castiel said, ignoring the question for now. “As former angels, they may have believed that if they possessed the designated vessels of Michael and Lucifer, they would somehow be able to do the same.”

Ben still looked very confused.

“You know in the Bible where it talks about separating light and dark?” Dean explained. “That was about locking Amara away so she couldn’t destroy everything.”

“I don’t think that’s the part that’s confusing him,” Castiel said. He wasn’t sure how much more to say, though. If Dean had not yet informed Ben of his parentage, this was hardly the best way to do so. A look at Sam confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.

“The vessel thing.” Dean sighed. “So, apparently some of the other angels thought it’d be cool to jump-start the apocalypse. They used Cupids to treat our ancestors like breeding stock so they’d get Sam and me. Hunters on one side of the family, Men of Letters on the other. I’ll explain that part later.” He took a deep breath. “The point is, we were supposed to be vessels for Michael and Lucifer to have their big final show-down.”

“When Sam died?” Ben asked, his voice small and eyes darting between the two brothers.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I mean, sort of. We … I … trapped Lucifer back in his cage in hell to stop the apocalypse. That’s when Dean went to live with you and your mom.”

“So now I’m a vessel, too?” Ben asked. His voice shook. “For which one?”

“Michael,” Dean said. “But before you feel too relieved, I’m not sure it’s that much of an improvement.”

“Dean,” Sam said.

“What?” Dean snapped. “Okay, maybe he didn’t invent demons, but he masterminded this whole apocalypse scenario!”

“Unfortunately, I must agree,” Castiel said. “I’m sorry, Ben, but it is best that you know.”

“So that tattoo really would’ve stopped any of them possessing me?” Ben asked, looking back at his bare shoulder.

“Any demon,” Castiel replied. “It would not work against an angel, but an angel would require your consent before they could possess you. Clearly the princes no longer retain enough angelic nature for that to be necessary, or they would not have bothered with removing your protection. Obviously if it is removed or defaced, it loses its power.”

Ben shrank in on himself, apparently not happy with that answer, though Castiel could not fathom why. He supposed it was a lot for any human to take in, particularly one so young. First to learn the truth of his parentage, then that this implied he would be of continued value to demons and angels alike. It seemed, however, to be something more than that. The echoes of Dean’s soul in the boy’s aura rippled and roiled as if in pain.

Castiel looked over at Dean and saw similar pain reflected both on his face and in his soul. The jagged emotion that tore through him must be, he thought, analogous to what humans called heartbreak. On top of everything else, these two men were in mourning, of course. One for his mother, the other for the woman he’d loved. It reminded Castiel of that awful day in the hospital. This time, however, there was nothing he could do to fix it for either of them.

“Cas.” Sam laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go set up that other room. Give these guys some space.”

“No!” Ben shot up from the bed he’d been sitting on. “Don’t leave me here with him.”

Dean looked as though he’d been stabbed.

“Uh, okay,” Sam said. “Then, Cas, why don’t you give me the key, and I’ll take Ben to get settled next door.”

That was rather the opposite of what Castiel thought would be a wise solution, but it seemed to appease Ben, and that in turn seemed to calm Dean somewhat. With a nod, Castiel handed the key over to Sam, who grabbed his duffel bag and guided Ben out of the room. A few seconds later, the door of the next room over could be heard opening and closing.

Dean let out a shaky breath. “He hates me.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel said, taking a step closer.

“No, Cas, it really, really is.” Dean took another deep breath and let it out. “I got him into all this before he was even born. Maybe I didn’t know it back then, but I still did it. And I got his mom killed and almost got him possessed by a fucking prince of hell.”

“Dean …”

“Oh, but Amara ‘has no quarrel with me or my creation’ so there’s that,” Dean went on. He finally met Castiel’s eyes, and his own eyes shone bright with tears. “How could he not hate me?”

With two quick strides, Castiel took Dean into his arms as the man finally allowed the tears he’d been fighting to fall.

“I got Lisa killed,” Dean sobbed. “I got her killed and I ruined his life, all before I even knew …”

There were no words that could possibly counter the litany of self-accusation that Dean continued to pour into Castiel’s shoulder as his sobs shuddered through his body. And so Castiel did the only thing he could. He sheltered Dean in both his arms and his battered wings, providing what comfort he could as Dean grieved.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean woke up slowly, the sunlight through the curtains warming his face before it nudged his eyes open. He blinked and rubbed away the last of his sleep before looking around the empty motel room. There was no noise coming from the bathroom, and the other bed didn’t appear to have been slept in. Where was Sam?

Abruptly, the events of the previous day came crashing down on him, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut as if that could make them go away. When that didn’t work, he scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed.

Which … that was odd. When and how had he ended up in bed? He didn’t feel hungover, so he couldn’t have gotten drunk enough to black out. The last thing he remembered was …. yeah. He winced as he remembered sobbing as Cas held him like a baby. He must’ve literally cried himself to sleep, leaving Cas to put him to bed. At least he was still dressed in the jeans and Henley he’d put on after he showered, only his boots gone.

But where was Cas?

Maybe he was doing the invisible sentry thing again. No note anywhere, though, even though he’d said he’d let one of them know if he did that again. Oh, well, that could mean he told Sam something, he supposed. Dean reached for the bedside table reflexively, planning to shoot one or both of them a text, only to realize that, yeah, he didn’t have that phone anymore. Time to fire up another of the burners in Baby’s trunk, then.

“Cas, where are you?” he prayed. “If you’re still around, could you … please come back?”

He hated to ask that. Cas had already done so much when he had only just recovered from what Rowena had done to him. But Dean really wasn’t up for going next door to talk to Sam. Not if it meant seeing the hatred in Ben’s eyes. His nerves still felt scraped way too raw for that.

The lock beeped, and Dean grabbed the gun from under his pillow (thanks, Cas) only to see that it was Cas coming back. He held one of those square trays with four cups of coffee in it and a box of donuts, all with the Gas ‘n’ Sip logo on them.

“You’re awake,” Cas said.

“Never could put anything past you,” Dean replied.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I received your prayer, but you did not have your phone when we found you. As I was close by, I decided I would arrive soon enough, rather than wasting the time to figure out how to call the room.”

“Makes sense.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair and stood up. “One of those for me?”

“Of course.” Cas looked at each of the cups before selecting one and handing it to him.

Dean turned the cup around and saw that it had a large D written on the side. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he peeled off the lid and took a sip, and damn that was good. Just sweet enough with a hint of freaking hazelnut. He didn’t realize Cas even knew he liked that crap. “’Sgood, man, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas set the remaining coffees and the box of donuts on the table by the window. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Dean replied. “Did you mojo me again?”

“No. You were simply exhausted.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.” Dean sighed. He grabbed one of the donuts and went over to lean against the bureau as he took a bite. Sugar went everywhere, but he didn’t care. Caffeine and sugar were the best breakfast ever. Except bacon, but they could get that later.

“We will have to figure out what to tell the local authorities,” Cas said. “Sam informed them that we found you and Ben. I believe he told them we were taking Ben into protective custody so that they would not insist he be returned to the hospital.”

“Shit.” Yeah, that was gonna be a problem. “We can’t let them leave the case open. Plus Lisa’s sister will probably be here soon, if not today. She doesn’t know about any of this shit, and she won’t swallow the same bullshit the cops will. Not to mention she does know me.”

“That does add a layer of complexity,” Cas agreed.

Next door, Dean could hear muffled voices. So Sam and Ben were up too. Dean wanted to run all of this by Sam, who was probably already thinking up a cover story. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with Ben, though. He took another swig of coffee.

~*~

Castiel wasn’t sure what to expect when Dean awoke. He had always treated emotions as weakness, and when he allowed himself to show them, the aftermath could be … unpredictable. Would he be in a rage? Pretend nothing had happened? Even the careful observation of the last few years made this impossible to predict.

So he was not at all surprised when Dean simply focused on the tactical needs of the day. If anything, he was relieved, as this was far easier to work with than an embarrassed or enraged Dean, which had been Castiel’s primary expectations. And it was certainly true that they had some decisions to make before engaging with the local police today, hopefully for the last time.

In the next room, Castiel could hear Sam and Ben speaking. At first, Sam was simply encouraging the boy to go through his morning ablutions, but then the conversation became more purposeful.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, dude,” Sam said. “Unfortunately, it’s not over yet.”

“You’re not taking me back to the hospital, are you?” Ben asked.

“Not unless you want us to,” Sam replied. “Like I said, you’ve been through a lot. Did you feel like they could help you deal with that?”

“They were gonna put me on some kind of meds. Thought I was delusional.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem with telling people the truth.” Sam sighed. “So, if not there, where would you go?”

There was a long silence.

“My aunt will feel like she has to take me,” Ben said. “She’s got little kids, though. She doesn’t need another one.”

“You get that she probably won’t see it that way,” Sam said. “You might even be a help to her.”

“Not if this shit follows me there!” The springs of the bed creaked, suggesting Ben had thrown himself down on it. “Sure, what’s-her-face got rid of those demons, but if these princes still think they had a good idea, they’ll try this shit again.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. 

Both were silent for a bit, and Castiel refocused his attention on Dean.

“When we were in that locker,” Dean was saying, “Ben kind of suggested maybe he should come live with us.”

“At the bunker?” Castiel asked. It actually sounded like a reasonable plan, if a bit confining for a growing boy with schooling to finish. Though he supposed with yet another potential world-ending scenario in progress, that was not the most important element to consider.

“Never told him about the bunker,” Dean said. “For all I know, he thinks that means living on the road like me and Sam used to.”

“Either of those options would provide more protection than going to live with his aunt,” Castiel agreed. “But what do you think?”

“I think the kid hates my guts, and I don’t blame him,” Dean said. “Kinda starting to get how Dad probably felt with Sam.”

Castiel decided not to comment on that. His opinion of John Winchester was complex at best, and not something Dean was likely to appreciate hearing. Of greater concern was whether Dean was about to dive into another soul-rending bout of self-loathing.

“But he’s right,” Dean continued. “At least, he’s right that he’s a risk to his aunt and cousins. And no way in hell I’m leaving him on his own.”

“Did he suggest that?” Castiel asked. Silence still reigned in the adjacent room, broken by the sounds of plumbing and fabric as the men finished preparing for the day. Whatever thoughts Ben had on the subject, perhaps he considered them for Dean’s ears only.

“Yeah.” Dean poured the rest of his coffee down his throat, crushed the cup in his fist and threw it in the trash. “Bunker probably is the best idea. He’s gonna feel trapped like Kevin did, though.”

“Are there any other options that would ensure his safety?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head. “Maybe once we finish dealing with Amara … maybe it’s just a short-term thing.”

Castiel hummed to indicate that he’d heard what Dean had said. He wasn’t sure, however, that he agreed.

~*~

Dean wasn’t expecting to find a room full of people when he got out of the shower. At least he wasn’t in a towel. No point changing again when all he’d done in these clothes was sleep. Well, unless they had to go play dress-up again, but his suit had kind of seen better days at this point.

Sam was drinking the coffee labelled with an “S,” but Ben was just chowing down on a jelly donut. The cup with the “B” remained in the holder, untouched. Of course, Cas wouldn’t have known how he liked his coffee, or even if he liked coffee. 

Did Ben like coffee? He’d always wanted to steal a sip from either Lisa or Dean when he was younger. Didn’t mean he really liked it, though Dean reflexively bit back John’s old standby about how coffee would put hair on your chest and to man up and drink it, even if it wasn’t how you liked it. Drinking crappy black motel coffee black hadn’t done a damn thing for Dean except keep him awake when he needed it. Jelly donuts would do just as well.

“We got a plan?” he asked instead.

“Kinda?” Sam answered.

“Ben’s aunt has arrived at the local police station and is waiting to meet us,” Cas said.

“I gotta see her,” Ben said, defensively squaring his shoulders as if he expected a fight on that.

“No argument there,” Dean said. “She just lost her sister. She’s gonna need to see you to know you’re okay.”

“Well … yeah.” Ben nodded and took another bite of donut. 

“She’s never met me or Cas,” Sam said, “so maybe it’s best if we go with him.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed. He didn’t like it, but it made sense, especially if they were going with some kind of witness protection story. “Then what?”

“I gotta stick around at least through the funeral,” Ben said. “But after that … I think she and my cousins are better off without me hanging around.”

“I was thinking he could stay with us,” Sam said. “In the bunker. Safest place on earth, right?”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, then asked, “What do you think about that, Ben?”

“Yeah.” He stared down at the last bite of his donut. “Probably safest.”

Dean wanted to push for more, figure out if the kid was planning to bail as soon as they’d dealt with Amara. But he knew that look. Ben might be his, but he’d got Sammy’s mule-headedness somehow along the way, and he wasn’t going to say anything else until he was damn well ready.

“Okay, then,” Dean said. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan.”


	9. Chapter 9

The funeral had been every bit as terrible as Dean had expected. He’d planned to stay back, out of sight, pay his respects without drawing any attention. Ben wasn’t having any of that, though, and he’d ended up front and center, supporting his kid as the minister said all the things they said at stuff like this.

Good thing he’d had time to run back to the Bunker for more clothes. His 1940s suit was different enough from his and Sam’s FBI suits to avoid drawing comment. The drive had helped clear his head too. That and a good cry once he’d been in his own room. There might be a few things that’d need repairing later, but nothing major.

Sam was wearing his fed getup, and that was enough. He and Cas stayed off to the side, where Dean had planned to be, and nobody seemed to be paying them any attention. They knew Lisa had died violently, after all, even if they didn’t know the truth of it. Having some law enforcement around only made sense, right?

Dean put an arm across Ben’s shoulders when the minister handed him the urn that held Lisa’s ashes. That had been a surprisingly easy battle. Lisa’s life insurance would’ve covered a full traditional funeral with burial, but her sister was easily persuaded that cremation was preferable, given that there was not much the mortician could do to make her remains presentable for an open casket wake. The last thing Dean wanted was to ever, ever have to salt and burn her bones because of the way she’d died.

She was less accepting of Dean showing up “suddenly” in Ben’s life. 

“Look,” he’d finally said after one particularly heated exchange, “bad enough the kid has to go into witness protection after all he’s been through. I’m willing to go with him so at least he’s not alone or in some foster-home safe-house shit.”

“But …”

“It wouldn’t be fair to your kids to have to give up everything,” Dean said over her. “You know Lisa wouldn’t want that for you or them.”

“Like she’d want it for Ben!”

“Auntie!” Ben had cut in, “She’d want me safe. Seriously, it’s okay.”

That had been two days ago. Today, at the reception after the funeral, she pulled Dean aside again.

“Look, just tell me this,” she said. “Maybe then I can be okay with Ben going with you.”

“All right,” Dean said warily.

“Two years after you left, Lisa started getting these payments. Letter from the IRS said they were garnishing his father’s wages. Didn’t make much sense, considering she’d never filed any claims.” She just stopped talking and waited.

“Yeah, that was me,” Dean said. “I knew she’d never accept help from me. Didn’t even want to remember I existed.”

“You got that right,” she muttered with a shake of her head.

“So a friend of mine, good with computers, set that up to make sure they’d always have enough.” Come to think of it, he’d have to ask Charlie to change that. Set up an account that was just Ben’s or something.

Ben’s aunt looked at him appraisingly for a moment before saying, “You know, he looks an awful lot like you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. There were moments it was freaky, like looking in a mirror into his own past. Only from certain angles, though. Other times he looked more like Lisa or just like himself.

“You ever think about doing a blood test?” she asked. 

“Don’t need one,” Dean said. “Wouldn’t matter either way.”

And that was true, he realized. Part of the reason Ben was still in danger was that he was blood, sure. But Bobby had been right when he said family didn’t end with blood. It was enough that Ben was Ben. He’d played stepdad for a year. He could learn to be a dad. He hoped.

Ben’s aunt nodded warily. She clearly still wasn’t happy about this, but she just turned to hurry back to the table where her kids were busily trying to turn their sandwiches into some kind of a tower in the middle of the table while Ben laughed at their antics.

Dean felt Castiel sidle up beside him before he spoke. His presence was warm at Dean’s shoulder. Reassuring.

“Should we make our exit?” Cas asked. “In the movies, this would seem to be the point when law enforcement whisks the endangered witness away.”

“Nah,” Dean said. “You and Sammy can bail. Just stay nearby in case any trouble does crop up.” He didn’t want to think the demons would make a move now. But Cas was right. There was a reason people would get pulled away while there were plenty of people around. Made it harder for anyone to take a shot at them. Since it wasn’t snipers they were worried about, though, Dean thought they were good. Probably.

“All right.” Cas squeezed his shoulder before he turned to leave.

Dean forced himself not to watch after him. He wasn’t supposed to know him that well, after all. To Lisa’s family, Sam and Cas were the feds, and Dean was just Dean. Lisa’s ex.

He watched Ben, instead, who had stopped laughing (barely) and was helping his aunt rearrange her kids and convince them that their sandwiches were for eating. He even took a few bites himself, which was good. Kid’s appetite had been unpredictable the past few days. Understandable, but he needed to eat. Dean could swear he’d already grown an inch just in the time since Dean had seen him at the hospital.

This was good for him, Dean decided. And he was damn sure going to let him have it while he could.


	10. Epiloogue

The scents wafting through the bunker were complex: beef and bacon sizzling on the grill, faint traces of tomatoes being sliced, and a symphony of apples, sugar, cinnamon, and flour baking in the oven. Castiel was learning to appreciate the nuances of how these molecules interacted again. It still wasn’t the same as the way they blended into one another to human senses, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

Watching Dean move about the kitchen purposefully was its own pleasure as he checked the pie in the oven and returned his attention to the grill. Sam was setting leaves of lettuce and slices of tomato on rolls, ready for the burgers whenever Dean decided they were done. Ben sat at the table already, having completed his chore of distributing flatware and napkins for all four of them. The boy’s arms were crossed, and the expression on his face shifted back and forth from anger to anticipation. 

Castiel cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“You’re back!” Dean exclaimed. “With … what the hell did you get?”

Castiel set down the brown paper bag on the table and described each item as he pulled it out and set it down. “Orange soda for Ben. Green tea with ginseng for Sam, though I do recommend against drinking this with dinner if you plan to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’ll save that for breakfast,” Sam said. “Thanks, Cas.”

“And a six pack of beer for you, Dean.” Castiel folded the now-empty bag and set it aside before putting away the majority of the beverages, though not before pouring a glass of soda for Ben and pulling out one of the beers for Dean.

Ben grunted sourly, but a faint sense of gratitude reached Castiel. He smiled at the boy and nodded to indicate he’d heard the prayer. The boy’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything.

“C’mon, Ben,” Dean said as he scooped the burgers onto the buns, “I know you’ve got better manners than that.”

“Cut the kid some slack,” Sam said.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the uncle who lets him get away with everything?” Dean asked, clearly preparing to launch into a lecture.

Dean and his brother, bickering as they so often did, while Dean’s son watched with a sort of fascinated horror. Castiel smiled at this broken little family that had made room for him to join them. It was perfect.


End file.
